dark morels

clustering

against roots

of ash trees

moist

in gathering dark

night air leaning

into a textured silence

well-earned through

a receding wall of trees

night’s skin

seeping cold

under ringing mist

the water knows all.

i rise into quiet

softness melting

pour words out

of the page

the book

the room

conjured

with imagination

and howling dogs

what do I know

about vibrating

at a different frequency?

yolk yellow lichen

scattering over boulders

like blossom/ green hope

nestling under

humming black sky

i know nothing

of the night sky

as compass or map

but i stuff my heart

with fruitkeys and shells

and blood and root

to grow closer

to this land

and the water

the water knows it all.